


and if you go chasing rabbits

by necromantrix



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, I'll add more tags later, M/M, also i already know it will not end happily for the most part, this might take a while to finish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 18:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8764396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necromantrix/pseuds/necromantrix
Summary: Whatever happens next, he’ll always have the knowledge that he did this—and he’d do it again, every time. Consequences be damned, he’d make this choice every time.Taako gives in to temptation. Kravitz takes a trip through Wonderland. Magnus and Merle chill out for a little while.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first part of this a while ago, back after the first episode with the elves, when I asked for a flash fic prompt from the Discord chat; I decided to go wild from there, and this is the resulting fic.
> 
> The title is from White Rabbit, specifically the Sander van Doom, Pep & Rash version of it, which I feel fits Wonderland very well.
> 
> This fic may be slow to update. Depends on how I feel with the four other TAZ fics I'm writing.
> 
> Follow me on Twitter @goodouthere to scream with/at me. I could use some more interaction there.

       “You’ve survived so many trials; you deserve your prize. You still want the job? It’s _all yours._ All you have to do is accept it, darling. What do you have to lose?” The voice is a tantalizing murmur against his ear, the incorporeal elf—whose name he still hasn’t got after however long he’s been stuck in this hell—resting his hands on Taako’s shoulders. He can’t feel them, but somehow the comfort of the implied touch is still there; at this point anything that isn’t trying to hurt him is a comfort, and he’ll take what he can get.

       It started off as a joke, more than anything. The elves were fashionable and attractive and had an absolute control over their existences that Taako envied. They were everything he wanted to be when he first saw them. Now, having survived this Wonderland hellscape for as long as he has (and just barely at that; the damage has yet to scar over, and with most of it being mental, he’s scared of what will happen when it does), the offer seems so much more genuine and tempting.

       The deal is on the table. Literally. There’s a contract sitting on the podium before him, magical pen—glowing neon, of course—hovering over the dotted line marked with a gaudy X. He’s been separated from Magnus and Merle for who knows how long at this point; they’ve probably retrieved the Animus Bell without a hitch now that he’s not there to fret over roulette wheels and hold them back with their concern about him. Their faces come to mind at the elf’s question. They’re friends. _No,_ some part of his mind corrects him sternly. _They’re coworkers with with shared goal. That’s_ not _the same thing as friends._ It hurts, realizing this after watching Magnus take hits for him and hearing Merle offer to sacrifice more so he wouldn’t have to, but he knows it’s true. As soon as those thoughts begin to arise, the memories start dissolving away into nothingness until he’s left with only the knowledge that he’s better off here, on his own.

       Kravitz comes to mind next, his handsome face a familiar thought. He thinks of how many rules have been bent for his sake by the Raven Queen’s personal errand boy. He thinks of how kind Kravitz is, of how caring and sweet and _perfect_ he is, and then his face fades as another takes its place; another, who knew him better and who betrayed him because of it. Another, who knew him and tried to kill him, then framed him for forty murders when the murder plan failed. _It’s only a matter of time before Kravitz knows you too well_ , that insidious voice whispers, and he can’t find a single argument to the contrary.

       And that’s it. Angus, Avi, Johan, the Director… the memories rush over him faster than he can process, every memory and every face meaning less than the one before and fading quicker than the last, until he’s suddenly aware with striking clarity that there’s not even _one_ other person he gives a single fuck about.

       The elves are patient, watching Taako with intent, hungry eyes that he’s too far gone to notice.

       “I…” Taako falters briefly, feeling for a moment that there’s something he’s not realizing. The thought has only just formed when he shoves it—and with it the last vestiges of anything resembling doubt—down and away for the final time. His mind finally, blissfully empty, he speaks again, “Y’know, you’re fuckin’ right. What _do_ I got to lose? A whole lot of _nothing,_ that’s what. Alright. I’ll autograph your weird-ass soul-paper.” Without any further hesitation, he takes the bright pink pen into his hand and dashes down his signature with a flourish. “What happens now?”

       The elf behind him smiles and tilts Taako’s chin up as he circles back around him—he can’t feel the touch, but somehow the force moves him nonetheless. “Now? It’s showtime,” he purrs before leaning forward to capture his lips in a slow, leisurely kiss.

       Taako hardly feels the blade when it plunges into his back and slides delicately between his ribs, the woman materializing behind him from out of nowhere. He hardly feels the breath when it escapes past his lips for the final time. He doesn’t feel when the life vanishes from his body, which crumples into their arms.

       What he _does_ feel is when the consciousness snaps back into his mind like a rubber band that’s been suddenly released. He feels it with with a lightness he hasn’t known in… ever, really. He’s aware of the fact that he’s dead and he’s aware of the ramifications of the deal he’s made, but he couldn’t care less.

       Straightening himself to stand on his own two feet—two feet that aren’t part of his physical body and instead belong to his new, illusory one—again, he can’t stop the giddy, triumphant laughter that bubbles up in his throat and escapes past his lips; he’s finally in control of his own decisions, and it’s one hell of a headrush. Whatever happens next, he’ll always have the knowledge that _he_ did this—and he’d do it again, every time. Consequences be damned, he’d make this choice every time.

\---

       A rift tears open in the clearing just as Magnus and Merle burst out of the cylindrical building and the door disappears behind them. The two adventurers stare at the Grim Reaper for a moment, both sides of the invisible line between them looking flustered and troubled—each for their own reasons. Merle goes to break the silence first, seeming rather ready to rumble despite how exhausted he clearly is, but Kravitz raises a hand to stop him. “Look, I know—I know we’ve had our issues, but right now I need you two to realize Taako isn’t with you,” he says. He knows his dark skin is becoming gaunt with his concern, and the feeling of dread only grows stronger as Magnus and Merle both look around, back behind them at the door, and then look at each other with growing panic visible on their faces.

       Magnus is the first of the two to get enough of a grip on himself to speak, and he looks at Kravitz again. “Wait, how did you know to come here? Is he…?” It’s clear to Kravitz by the thickness in Magnus’ voice that he doesn’t want to think along those lines, so he decides it’s best to be vague with what he knows and avoid that question. Even before he gets a chance to answer, tears are welling in the large man’s eyes.

       “Something’s wrong,” Kravitz answers noncommittally, his voice sympathetic. His preternatural senses twinge suddenly, and he looks at Merle. “I’m going in after him, and I need you two—you have to stay in this clearing. Whatever it is you took out of there… it’s immensely powerful, and there’s a chance leaving might shut that place down.” His black eyes move to the building in question, and he feels a shiver run through him—a sensation he hasn’t felt in quite some time.

       “Are you sure you don’t need us to come with you?” Merle asks, the fact that he’s offering to help betraying the concern and caring he tries to hide.

       Kravitz tears his eyes away from the building to look the two over, taking in their haggard and pained appearances, and he shakes his head. “No. You two’ve been through enough, I think. And if something goes wrong, you two need to get that back. You have a job.” _So do I, but that’s not stopping me from doing something ridiculously stupid_ , he tells himself drily.

       A hand resting on his shoulder pulls him out of those thoughts, and he realizes his gaze has drifted back to the building as he’s forced to tear his attention away again in order to look sideways at Magnus. “Listen, Kravitz… I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling us, but… Good luck in there. It’s hell in there and—Please bring him back. Please.” His hand squeezes his shoulder slightly as he wipes his damp eyes with his other hand, and Kravitz nods.

       He can’t tell them that he’s fairly certain Taako’s dead. He can't tell them that it had been written plainly in his book. He can't tell them that for some reason Taako died and didn't check into the astral plane. He can't tell them why he came here. Instead, he just says “I will” and pulls out of his grip to face the door. The roulette pattern stops spinning, letters appearing over the door that simply read _Kravitz_.

       He looks at the other two once more and nods again, steeling himself for whatever awaits him. He’s used to compartmentalizing for his work, so he slips into that façade; it’s best to pretend this is another job, he decides. The door swings open slowly, and he takes a few even strides forward into the darkness beyond.

       The world around him goes completely dark as the door behind him disappears, and now he's in Wonderland.


	2. The First Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I wrote and am posting this much faster than I meant to. Whoops.
> 
> Sorry for being an emdash fiend.

       Kravitz stands in complete darkness for what feels like at least a solid minute, understanding for what he realizes is the first time the phrase “black as pitch.” This darkness isn’t just an absence of light; it’s an unnatural darkness, almost palpable and definitely disarming even to someone as comfortable with the dark as he.

       Then suddenly the lights come on, bright and colorful and radiating from multicolored panels in the walls, and he squints against the sudden brightness that flashes white in his vision. Some catchy EDM or similar music starts playing at an obnoxiously high volume to add to the overload of his senses. Before his eyes can fully adjust to the lights and sound, he registers three figures before him, standing on platform raised a few feet off the ground.

       As his vision focuses again and he can make out their appearances, his jaw sets with determination.

       There are three elves standing on the platform— _a runway,_ he realizes with some chagrin—all donning matching couture outfits of gold and burgundy and pale blue. The outfits are angular, gaudy, and well-fitted, and the elves wearing them are all striking rather ridiculous poses in time with the music. It’s probably all very fashionable to someone with this sort of taste. _Someone like Taako._

       Kravitz only recognizes any of this peripherally, as his eyes are locked on one of the elves—the one in the middle of the trio, keeping it more or less symmetrical. The other two are twins, or at least a complementary set: tall and sharp and similar of facial structure and coloring. The other elf, though… He’s shorter, his blond hair with the dark roots contrasting with the colorful hair of the other two. Despite the fact that he clearly doesn’t belong with the two of them, he looks comfortable and at home between them.

       He looks at Kravitz with no emotional recognition when their eyes meet.

       Kravitz realizes that this is going to go _that way,_ so he slips into the tense and proper demeanor of his working self as he watches this unappealing display of posing and strutting. Some part of him can’t help but recognize that yes, this would have appealed to Taako, and that only starts a small spark of anger within him directed at this place in general and those two elves in particular. They must have done this, whatever _this_ is. As he has these thoughts, the song comes to an end and the trio stops their vogueing, the woman leaning her arm on the man’s shoulder as Taako sits with his legs dangling off the runway before them.

       Just to torment him, Kravitz realizes with even more anger, Taako is the one who speaks first. There _is_ some recognition in his gaze, but it’s not the sort of recognition he wants to see. “Welcome to Wonderland, handsome,” he practically purrs, uncrossing and recrossing his legs. The familiar expression in his hooded eyes almost sends a pang through him, but if his job has made him good at anything it’s compartmentalizing.

       “The path before you is difficult and full of trials,” the man begins.

       “But if you make it through, your prize will be worth it,” the woman continues.

       “Seriously,” Taako finishes, that same lazy smile plastered across his face. “Think your-heart’s-deepest-fucking-desire worth it.” His expression fades into a grin, and all three vanish from the runway and appear beside it as it lowers closer to the ground. The trio all three lean against one another in a lazy-but-carefully-stylized way; their entire performance seems like a carefully-rehearsed act, every gesture and word just as fake as they are. They cast no shadow despite the spotlight shining on them, and Kravitz assumes they have no weight either. They do, however, have souls. He can sense that, and he can sense that the familiar elf before him _is_ Taako.

       “I’m in,” he says simply, not allowing himself to betray any emotion or weakness.

       “This,” the man begins, gesturing beside him, “is the Wheel of Sacrifice. It’s how we like to get things started in here.”

       “Consider it a fun, light first sacrifice, just to get you all prepped and ready for the hardships ahead of you.”

       “Whaddaya say, my fella? Give ‘er a whirl, see what happens.” With that, the three vanish into nothing.

       Filled with trepidation as well as determination, Kravitz takes a few steps forward and looks at the wheel. It’s split into even, colorful sections, each with a different symbol denoting different parts of the body or belongings. It’s all symbolic—for now—he assumes. He grips the handle and spins the wheel.

       The colors blend into a continuous rainbow as the wheel spins, slowly becoming discrete sections once again as it slows. He watches the arrow with no readable expression, waiting to see what he’ll be sacrificing.  _For Taako,_ he reminds himself, forcing himself to consider what he’d feel if he left Taako’s soul trapped here. That’s an unacceptable thought.

       “Ooohh, body,” the woman says thoughtfully, pulling Kravitz out of his thoughts so he can see that _yes, the wheel_ did _stop on body_.

       The man laughs. “Well, we’re not going to kill you. That would be ridiculous. What do you think?”

       Even without being able to see them, Kravitz realizes the elf is speaking to Taako when he answers.

       “Whaaaaat iiiffff…. Hm, this is a tricky one, huh? Or not.” He laughs, and there’s something dark about the sound that sends another shiver down Kravitz’ spine. _This isn’t Taako. Not wholly, at least._ “He’s gonna do _way_ too good in here if he can go all switcheroo on his forms and shit, so what if we trapped him in this one?”

       “Now _that’s_ an idea,” the man says, smile audible in his voice.

       “How does that sound to you? You can say no, of course,” the woman continues.

       “But there _will_ be punishment if you do,” he warns.

       Kravitz ponders this in silence, looking down at his hand. Being unable to change forms means that he won’t be able to heal himself by regenerating. That’s risky, especially if the state of Magnus and Merle is any indication of how things’ll go for him—and _they_ had a cleric. He has himself, and he doesn’t have any way of healing himself.

       He sighs heavily, summoning his scythe just in case an inability to shift forms would somehow leave him unable to pull it into this realm. Being without a healer _and_ without a weapon would be _really_ shitty.

       One of them snaps, and suddenly he feels…. _different_ , and to test the validity of the statement he holds out his hand and attempts to will it to fade into his skeletal form.

       It doesn’t and he clenches his hand into a fist as he lowers it to his side.

       There’s a sound of a synthetic bell, and a door he didn’t see on the far wall when he came in opens, the one square above it lit up green. The elves say nothing else, and he tightens his grip around the scythe and strides to the open door. The blackness beyond is thick and near-palpable again, and he doesn’t hesitate before stepping through.


End file.
